The Room of Requirement
by Drucilla
Summary: MWPP-era. A story about what goes on in the Room of Requirement for a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw.
1. September 9, 1975

Rowan had found the room quite by accident, especially since she was nearly blinded by her tears when her groping hand found the doorknob. Dinner had been excruciating, and although nearly everyone had been unfailingly polite to her she didn't really fancy going back to the Common room to be stared at like some sort of circus attraction. Again.  
  
She didn't understand what was happening to her, hadn't ever since the owl had flown up in the dusking afternoon and dropped the letter squarely into her hands. It had said she had been accepted to some school, a school of witchcraft and wizardry. But such things couldn't exist, they were the stuff of fantasies, fairy tales, books and films. The letter wasn't real, it was a practical joke performed by some boy down the lane and picked up by a wandering bird. Never mind the fact that it had dropped it right into her hand.  
  
That had become harder and harder to believe as more letters had followed, instructions on where to go, how to go there, what to do when she arrived. She had been guided to a place called Diagon Alley, told to purchase a wand, some robes, some books. She had even read a little through the books. It was all so fantastical, so hard to take in all at once. The words were lined up properly on the page but her mind couldn't grasp that the grammatically correct sentences had any meaning. The final letter had told her to go to London, to a train platform that didn't exist, and wait for a train called (of all things) the Hogwarts Express. She'd stood on the train platform near tears for nearly an hour before another family had taken pity on her and showed her how to catch the train.   
  
And then some horrible and neverending ceremony involving a singing hat. She'd been sure it had been going to swallow her whole and spit out her bones, despite the fact that it didn't do to any of the students before her. It had only talked at her a little, and she'd sat on the stool shivering until it shrieked Ravenclaw! at the top of its lungs. The blue and gold table had clapped, and she'd tottered over…   
  
But they'd all stared at her so wide-eyed to see her so disconcerted.   
  
After a torturous week during which she'd been trying and trying to get used to this strange world (and failing, and failing) she just needed a quiet place to cry. A place where no one would find her, where no one would laugh at her or try in a conciliatory but ineffectual way to make her feel better. Preferably a place with something soft onto which she could throw herself. She'd been stumbling around the corridors for nearly an hour after dinner.  
  
But somehow she found the room, managed to fumble open the door with a sticky hand, and stumbled in. There were overstuffed armchairs, she could see, and a table in one corner. And a couch. She threw herself onto it and sobbed, grateful to hear the door close behind her.   
  
"Here…" a voice said at her shoulder, making her screech. "You might as well take this."  
  
She sat up, stared first at the handkerchief that was being offered (and did it look a bit papery?) then at the hand that offered it. Slender fingers, almost too slender, with the bony look of a growing and always hungry child about them. Like her cousin's fingers, who was just starting to hit his growth spurt. Her eyes traveled up the arm, an inch of bony wrist sticking out from the sleeve of the robe. The colors were green and silver; Slytherin colors, she understood. Even the name had sounded nasty, and the folk who had laughed at their table hadn't looked friendly either. Certainly not the kind of folk who would offer a weeping first year a handkerchief.   
  
She looked up and met his eyes now, watery green to dark. His face was lean, sallow, and had the pinched look of a boy who hasn't smiled since he was three. His hair was greasy and untidy. There was a smudge of ink or something else dark by his nose, as though he'd been rubbing his eyes with a pen in his hand. His eyes were dark, sullen and hooded. Whatever emotion had been there before she'd entered was covered up in icy silence.   
  
"Th-thank you…" she fumbled the handkerchief into her hand and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry…" she didn't want to be a bother, but she didn't want to go either. "I thought I was alone."  
  
"Obviously," he muttered. He also waved off her efforts to return his handkerchief which, she noticed, smelled like paper. "Keep it, before you leak all over the carpet."  
  
Rowan drew back, stung into a fresh burst of tears despite her best efforts not to show weakness in front of this horrible, nasty boy. "You're awfully rude, you know that?"  
  
"I'm not the one who came blubbering into a quiet study room," he pointed out, returning to the desk she had stumbled by before. Now that she could see clearly she could make out that his books were on the table, his bookbag by the chair. She couldn't tell what he'd been studying though.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it. "I was just… I was looking for a quiet place where no one would…" she trailed off. It seemed stupid now that she wasn't crying anymore, now that she was all right if still sad and homesick.  
  
"Where no one would see you blubbering like a baby?" he offered, although there seemed to be only habitual sarcasm in his tone, nothing personal. She thought about pitching a cushion at his head.   
  
"Do you have to be so terribly mean?" she asked, wondering if anger was going to overtake her grief. "It's not as though any of your friends are here to watch you pick on the poor little firstie."  
  
He didn't seem to know what to do with that.   
  
"Weren't you ever homesick as a first year?"  
  
Something crossed his face, a grimace or a scowl horrible enough to make her want to take a step back if she'd been standing. As it was she shrank into the couch. But he wasn't looking at her, he was looking at some thought in his own mind. "No," he said after a split second. "Never."  
  
"Never?"   
  
"Just because you're in here blubbering over your mommy and daddy and your stupid pets doesn't mean the rest of us have to spend our first year whinging about it, all right?" he snapped.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said reflexively, and then wondered why that had popped out. Clearly she'd hit some sort of nerve, a sore spot. But she couldn't tell what.   
  
"Hmmph," he said, and turned back to his books. But this time she could see clearly, and noticed that his back was tense, his shoulders hunched, waiting for the teasing or blows or recriminations from her. She wondered why. She didn't dare ask.  
  
Studying looked like a thing to do, at least, and now that she wasn't so upset or under so much scrutiny she actually thought she might be able to. It would be easier to wrap her mind around all the new concepts, the new things to learn if she didn't have people constantly staring at her or asking her about 'Muggle' things. And it was quiet in here, the other boy made no sound except the turning of his pages or the scratching of his quill on the paper. She still had to get used to writing with a quill. It was awkward, and she kept leaving blots everywhere. At least she was getting better at it, if only slowly. She pulled out her books and spread them over the end table, leaning over the arm of the couch to read.   
  
"Are you still here?" the rude boy asked. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that he wasn't actually looking at her, just going on the fact that he hadn't heard the door close again.  
  
"Of course. It's quiet, it's warm, and there are couches. It's a perfect place to study."  
  
She braced herself for another sarcastic remark, but evidently he couldn't think of one. When she risked a second glance over her shoulder he had returned to his books, scratching out notes on parchments, his hair brushing the pages as he read. Perhaps she'd actually won that argument, or at least achieved some sort of cease-fire. Satisfied and relieved to have found a place out of the public eye, she went back to studying as well. 


	2. Expelliarmus

The room, whatever it had been since no one else seemed to know of its existence, had served very well for her studying. So well, in fact, that she went back again two days later. The past forty eight hours had been a great deal less stressful just knowing that there was at least one place she could go where no one would stare or ask questions or try and involve her in games she didn't understand. She had even relaxed enough to chat a bit with other members of Ravenclaw house, making a few acquaintances. She was beginning to think that she would survive her first year here.  
  
Rowan was also hoping that when she went back to the room it would be empty this time. Handkerchief or no handkerchief, the boy had been rude and beastly. But when she pushed the door open on her third try of looking for the room (and how she could have missed it with the door right there she didn't know) his bookbag was already by the door, his pen already scratching on the parchment.   
  
"Oh bother," she said quietly, going in anyway. She wasn't about to let one rude boy stand between her and her refuge, not this early in the school year. Later, when she'd explored more of the castle and grounds, she might find somewhere else to study. Not now, though.   
  
"What are you doing here?" he snapped, looking almost fearful until the door closed. "Get out."   
  
"It's my right to be here as much as yours, this isn't your castle," she retorted, going over to the couch and pulling out her books as though she intended to stay. His eyes bulged slightly, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl that gave him an even more frightful appearance. "And stop making faces, I won't bother you and I'm not blubbering, this time."  
  
It seemed to put him off his game when she wouldn't roll over and succumb to his bad temper immediately. "Well… see that you don't start, then," he retorted lamely, and turned back to his books.   
  
"Rowan." She said clearly as she opened her Transfiguration book and began to read the assigned chapters.   
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"My name is Rowan Mayfair," she explained. "In polite circles it's considered the usual thing to introduce oneself, even if one intends to be a beast afterwards." There. She could be nasty too, if she wanted.  
  
"Severus," he muttered, "Severus Snape."  
  
"Severus…" she rolled the name around in her mouth. It was a handsome enough name, although a bit odd for such a strange and grumpy lad. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"I doubt that."  
  
"Well, that's what we call a polite lie," she snapped, looking up at his hunched-over back with a glare of impatience. "It's the little things that keep us all from killing each other. I know this isn't a charm school but you could do a little to learn the basics of grace and decency, couldn't you?"   
  
He whirled in his chair, blinking at her. Either no one had talked back to him like that or he hadn't expected such a tart response from a girl who had come blubbering into the room a few days ago. She was a little startled, herself. But she'd also had enough of just sitting back and watching and taking it, and simple rudeness was something she could deal with. It was almost a relief, actually, something familiar. Back and forth exchanges of snarky words she could handle. Spells were different and confusing.   
  
But that was no reason to take it out on Severus. "I'm sorry," she said then, and meant it. "I shouldn't be so mean to you, myself. I'm just… it's all very strange."  
  
"Hmmph," he said, and looked surprised that she would apologize to him. Still angry; she was starting to suspect that he was just angry all the time, at anything, at the world. But the apology put him on the wrong foot, and he didn't know what to do anymore.   
  
"I'm not …" she didn't want to use the term 'Muggle,' it sounded so clumsy somehow. "I wasn't born into all this. I'm still getting used to the idea of wands and things."   
  
That was definitely the wrong thing to say. His mouth curled to a self-satisfied smirk, cruelty warping his stance as he got to his feet. "And they put a stupid little Mudblood like you in Ravenclaw? Dumbledore's really slipping this time."   
  
"A what?" She didn't understand the words, but the meaning was all too clear. "You really are a…"  
  
"I," Severus started to walk over to her, drawing his wand with the dramatic satisfaction of a victim who has finally found someone else he can bully. "am a Slytherin pureblood. People like you shouldn't even be let into the school…"  
  
He was going to do something horrible to her, she just knew it. She'd already seen three Slytherins and a Gryffindor dueling it out in the hallway when they weren't supposed to. A teacher had interfered then, but there weren't any teachers now. She had a split second, probably, in which to decide what to do. But she'd already decided what she would do in such a situation from the moment she'd seen the Gryffindor with boils sprouting out of his face.   
  
"Expelliarmus!"   
  
It worked far better than she'd expected. The boy's wand went flying out of his hand and into a pillow, sending feathers everywhere. She kept her wand pointed at him and hoped he couldn't tell that it was the only spell she really knew of that would work. She'd practiced it on suits of armor, silverware in the Great Hall, whatever she thought she could get away with. Just in case the bullies came after her. Severus, she was pretty sure, was more bullied than a bully himself. But given half a chance and someone who might be weaker than himself…  
  
"I thought you said you didn't know any spells!" he said, sounding injured, as though she'd cheated.   
  
"I said I was getting used to the idea," she corrected calmly, and lowered her wand as a gesture of peace. "I didn't say I didn't know any spells. Now if you're quite done bullying me, can I get back to my studying already?"  
  
"Hmmmph," he repeated, picking up his wand and returning it to his robes. "Typical Ravenclaw. Nose always in a book."  
  
"Typical Slytherin," she retorted, doing just that. "Bullying the weaker set."  
  
"I…" he started, and she glared at him with one hand hovering above her wand. "Hmmmph."   
  
Two for two, she thought triumphantly, wondering how long this little victory would last. 


	3. Potions

September 16, 1972  
  
The rest of the week passed without incident, much to Rowan's surprise. Their little battle in the study room seemed to have quelled the boy's desire to bully, at least where she was concerned. They spent all of Thursday evening in the room without saying a word to each other, and although she found it a bit lonely after the first two hours it was all right enough for studying. Better, really, than the chatter in the common rooms about things she still felt uncomfortable dealing with.  
  
Friday came along, and by now everyone seemed to have gotten the idea that she didn't want to be friends, or at least didn't want to be talked to. She was left alone, realizing for the first time that it might have been a mistake to hide herself away for so long. Eventually she returned to the room, although Severus wasn't there, either. Perhaps he had other Friday night plans, which would make it everyone in the castle but her. She'd been looking forward to at least trying to talk to the sullen, greasy-haired boy, and finding him absent from their usual hiding place was more of a blow than she'd expected. Fighting back tears, she took the time to study ahead in some of her spells, Charms and Potions, for two. She wasn't doing very well in either subject.  
  
After a whole weekend of study and dread she got back her first Potions quiz on Monday and groaned. Although she'd quickly picked up on the different grading system, a D was still a bad grade no matter which way she sliced it. The first chance she got she hid in the room again, into which no one seemed to want to go, for whatever reason. Safe from prying eyes and questions, she collapsed on the couch and began to weep. Again.  
  
"Don't you ever stop blubbering?" the familiar voice asked, followed by the sound of a quietly shutting door. Rowan raised her head and sniffed a little.  
  
"You'd be blubbering too," she snapped. "Oh, I don't know why I bother."  
  
"Neither do I," he muttered, and opened his books at his desk.  
  
Crying over a bad Potions quiz was somehow less satisfying with an audience. Especially one who would never cease to annoy her about it if she didn't stop. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry anymore she forced herself to calm down, pulled her Potions book out of her satchel and started to re-read the assigned draught she'd bungled on the quiz. It made even less sense than it had before.  
  
"Porcupine quills and stewed... or newts... or..." she squinted, but the words weren't focusing, and she had to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief again. "No, it's..."  
  
Behind her the older boy gave a disgusted noise. She turned, but he hadn't turned to face her. "Stewed slugs," he muttered, and she wasn't sure whether he was talking to her or himself until she turned back to the book and saw that he was right.  
  
"... oh." She went back to reading. "Crushed ... fangs..."  
  
"Oh, honestly." The boy slammed his book shut with a loud enough sound to make her jump and stalked over to her. "What are you trying to do, there?"  
  
"None of your business," she snapped, shutting her own book and shoving it away from him. "I'm studying, and I thought we'd agreed to leave each other in peace."  
  
"I didn't agree to anything," he retorted in a nasty, sneering tone, "Now give it here."  
  
Despite the fact that she was holding both quiz and textbook out at arm's length he was both taller and longer than she was, and grabbed them both easily. "That's mine," she snapped, and tried to grab it back. He pushed her rudely back onto the couch and stood over her.  
  
"Oh, for..." he sounded thoroughly disgusted. "You really are thick, aren't you? It's a stupid draught for boils." He threw the book at her, narrowly missing her head.  
  
"I am not thick!" she shouted back, pitching the book right back at him. "I studied, and I studied, and it just didn't come out right, and Professor Dee won't tell me what I did wrong..."  
  
"I shouldn't think he'd have to tell you what you did wrong," the boy replied in lofty tones. "It's so simple even a child of four could do it. But I guess since you're just a hopeless Mudblood..."  
  
She'd found out what that meant in the last week, and glared at him furiously for it. "Don't you call me that!"  
  
"Or what?" His eyebrows raised, his lips curled back from his teeth in an unpleasant smirk. "You'll throw your wand at me?" But then he seemed to remember that she'd disarmed him before he'd had a chance to do anything. Instead of stalking towards her he turned back to his books. She could have sworn she heard him muttering something about stupid, stuck-up Mudbloods.  
  
Now furious instead of weeping, she picked up her potions textbook and pitched it across the room again, knocking down several books from the shelves opposite. "Stupid Potions," she snapped at the air. "Stupid ..."  
  
"Some of us are trying to study!" the boy roared at her angrily, and she ducked her head and was quiet. Unlike the last several times he had snapped at her this time he had been right to; she had, after all, been throwing a temper tantrum while he was doing homework.  
  
"Sorry," she murmured, meekly picking up her book again and putting everything back onto the shelves. The feelings of hopelessness and ignorance had settled so far in by now that she was getting used to the idea that she'd be dismissed from the school as a useless case. She wasn't going to tell anyone that, of course, not and give the Slytherins the satisfaction of knowing that the girl they called a filthy Mudblood couldn't handle the school. But she was starting to believe that they just might be right, too.  
  
"Oh, give it here."  
  
Rowan looked over at the boy, who had turned and was giving her a look of mingled disgust and impatience. "Excuse..."  
  
"Give it here, I said. If I'm not going to get any peace out of you till you learn the stupid thing, I might as well ..." He looked uncomfortable with the very idea. "Tutor you and make sure you get it right the first time."  
  
She blinked. He was already pulling out the cauldron and what looked like an entire trunk's worth of potions ingredients from a cabinet under the table. She hadn't noticed it there before, but if it was a study room she supposed it had a right to be there. Hesitantly, unsure of what exactly she was in for, she picked up her book and went over to the table. The dark- haired boy was tapping spidery fingers on the table, glaring at her as though she was dragging her feet.  
  
"I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire," he muttered. "All right, let's go over this from the beginning. And I'll go slowly and use small words so you'll be sure to understand."  
  
She glared at him but bit back the retort she wanted to make, just in case. A few moments later it didn't matter anyway. He launched into a detailed and step-by-step explanation of the assignment, showing her everything as he told her what to do, demonstrating with his graceful hands. It took no effort at all for her to follow what he was doing, and when he ordered her to repeat the process in a superior tone of voice she did it perfectly, not bothering to return the condescension.  
  
"Perhaps you're not as thick as I thought," he allowed, after she had finished successfully and filled up a flask to present to her Professor.  
  
"I had a good tutor." She turned to pack her books again, sure that it was getting late, and so missed the utterly bewildered expression on the boy's face. When she turned around again it vanished so quickly she wasn't sure she'd actually seen it. Instead he was scowling again, his usual expression whenever he bothered to meet her eyes. It didn't bother her as much as it had before. She even waved at him over her shoulder as she left the room, deciding to put off the rest of her homework for between classes the next day. "Thanks, Severus..." 


	4. Marauders

September 28, 1972  
  
"Asfodel, not... not that!" Severus grabbed her hand just as she was about to add an ingredient. His grip was surprisingly strong for such a skinny boy, but not hard enough to make it painful. "Stupid..." he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Sorry..."  
  
They seemed to have come to the terms of an uneasy truce, especially when he had been able to establish his superiority in the field of Potions. She had quickly caught up to nearly every student born of a wizarding family in her year, although she was still having a little trouble in Potions and in Charms. Still it was easy enough to practice in their secret little study room, and Severus really was years ahead of his class. He probably wasn't exactly willing to teach her, but he was even less willing to put up with the fits of temper that inevitably followed a failing quiz grade.  
  
Besides, he really was a good tutor. Once they had settled down to study he was unfailingly patient with everything except the most stubborn stupidity or absentmindedness. Not always polite, but he was patient, and he explained things simply and easily. It seemed to come naturally to him, although she hadn't yet dared to point it out yet. She wasn't sure what kind of response she'd receive, for one thing.  
  
"Now take it off the fire..." their joined hands lifted the cauldron. "There. Now do you think you can do that in class without mucking it up?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, I do think I can."  
  
"Good."  
  
They cleaned up in silence. Everything was done in silence, except when they were consulting each other on homework assignments. She asked him for advice and help much more often than the other way around, but apparently the Ravenclaw house had a reputation for being highly intelligent and skilled at study. Whenever he asked for her help he made reference to the fact, as though he wouldn't ask normally but because she always had her nose stuck in a book she might actually be able to come up with the right answer. He'd even said that once, and she'd stared at him with hurt and amazement in her eyes until he'd muttered a clearly unfelt apology.  
  
They settled back, he into his chair and she onto her couch to make notes on what she had had just learned. As seemed to be the norm she found it easier to concentrate in their tiny study room than in the Common Room of her house, or even in the library. Fewer eyes, fewer social groups to feel excluded from, fewer ways to feel homesick or alone. Not that this study room was really anything like her home, but at least she felt comfortable.  
  
The sound of cloth tearing wide open dragged her attention, and she looked over just in time to see all of Severus's books spilling over the floor. "Oh... damn." It hadn't looked as though the bag would have lasted much longer anyway, but from the way his face flushed and then grew pale...  
  
"Reparo..." she pointed her wand at it, watching with the traces of lingering amazement as the seams mended themselves. Severus watched, too, and then whirled on her.  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
She blinked. All she had done was repair his bag for him. "I was only trying to help..." Why had that sent him into a rage?  
  
"Well, don't! I don't need your help!" He jammed all his books into his bag again, and she could tell that it was already straining the seams again. "Just leave me alone!"  
  
Her eyes widened; he knocked over two inkwells and a jar full of pens, not that he took any notice. The black ink dripped along the length of the table and onto the floor. "Severus..." she started to warn him to get his homework out of the way, but he caught it just in time and snatched it off the table. He also caught sight of the inkwells, and looked as though he might hurl one at her head.  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
"Severus!" she shouted, and practically chased him out of the room in concern. He might not be the most pleasant boy in school; far from it, but he was still the first real friend she'd made. After a week or two of hiding she had developed a reputation for being standoffish at worst, shy at best.  
  
He was doing a good impression of standoffish at the moment, ignoring her and almost running down the hall with long, awkward steps. She wasn't sure whether he was just running or running away from her, but she kept pace with him easily enough. At least she would until he actually started running, and then she knew he'd lose her easily, being several inches taller and longer in stride.  
  
"Severus..." she started to say something, and then stopped as they were passed by a gaggle of Hufflepuffs, at least two of whom looked strangely at the sight of a Slytherin being chased by a worried-looking Ravenclaw. Evidently inter-house fraternization wasn't the done thing around here. Except she'd seen all kinds of inter-house friendships, so perhaps it was just the Slytherins? That didn't matter, her friend was...  
  
"You!"  
  
Severus had been in such a hurry to escape her that he'd run straight into another gaggle of students, this time a gaggle of Gryffindors. And Gryffindors who seemed to know him, she noticed with a growing sense of unease.  
  
"Snivellus..." The apparent leader of the pack, a lanky boy with untidy black hair, seemed to take a positively unholy glee both in discovering who he'd just run into and in using that awful name for him. "Excellent."  
  
"And who is this?" the boy behind him asked, but Severus didn't even look around.  
  
"No one," he snapped. "Now get out of my way."  
  
"Tut-tut..." The scruffy-haired boy whipped out his wand and in a second Severus had gone sprawling, his bag ripping open again and his books flying everywhere. "Manners, Snivellus, how many times do I have to..."  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
It was a good thing her aim had been true on the first shot, because once all four boys and Severus were staring at her (the former with shock and the latter with bitter loathing) she couldn't have managed a spell to save her own pride. She kept her wand out and pointed at the five boys anyway, figuring that that was better than turning tail and running like a kicked puppy.  
  
"Who's your friend, Snivellus?" the second boy asked, although he sounded more surprised than anything.  
  
"Get away from me," Severus snarled.  
  
"Leave him alone."  
  
For a second they remained at an impasse. None of the four boys wanted to do anything with the Ravenclaw's wand on them, Severus didn't dare try and escape from their grip, and she was slowly regaining her wits enough to try and cast another spell. Severus recovered first, most likely because he had the least to recover from. Snarling insults at her and the boy (whose name she vaguely recognized as Potter) he picked himself up off the floor and ran, not even stopping for his books. The Potter boy looked from him to her, as though not sure who to chase after.  
  
"Come on," the second boy said, taking Potter's arm. "Let's go find Evans, hmm?'  
  
Rowan didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until her legs kicked out from under her and she collapsed in a sighing heap. The corridor was still empty, although with her luck she wasn't sure how long that would last. "Reparo," she muttered at the bookbag, and stuffed all of Severus's things back into it. She didn't know her way to the Slytherin Common Room and wasn't sure he'd be in there even if she could get in, but she'd leave it in their shared hiding place. He'd come back there. She was sure of it, even if she wasn't sure of anything else anymore. Besides, she had to get her own books anyway.  
  
She trudged back to the room, panicking a bit when she couldn't find it at first. His usual chair was there, although someone had gone through and cleaned the ink off of it and the table. She left his books on the chair, thought about leaving a note for him and the discarded the idea when she realized she didn't know what to say. She'd just have to figure out something when she saw him again in their next study session. If he ever wanted to see her again. It was a strange feeling. The thought hurt more than she'd expected it to.  
  
And then again, why shouldn't it? He was rapidly becoming her best friend in this strange yet fascinating place, a wonderful tutor, and an intriguing person in and of himself. She would miss him if he decided to stay away from her, despite only having known him a few short weeks.  
  
But she still wasn't going to start blubbering over it. Fiercely determined, and with a horrific though unintentional scowl on her face, she stormed out of the room. 


	5. Apologies

October 2, 1972  
  
She didn't see him again for three days. The only way she had of telling that he'd recovered his things was by their absence when she returned on Thursday to find them gone. At least, Rowan presumed he'd recovered them. It wasn't as though the place was a frequent hideout. She wasn't even sure if anyone else knew about the study room.  
  
But she didn't see him for three days, and by Friday's end she was starting to worry. If someone else had his books and everything he'd be in serious trouble in his classes. And even if he didn't, she should probably apologize for butting into what was obviously a lnog-standing dispute between him and those other boys. Not that they hadn't been beastly… despite trying to put him out of her mind she still wondered. Did that happen often? It would explain why he hid in the study room if it did. What was the usual outcome of those sorts of scuffles? Had she made it better or worse? She found herself devoutly hoping she made it worse, which she told herself was a ridiculous thing to think over a beastly, older Slytherin boy.   
  
She finally caught a glimpse of him, hunched over a book with his long, potion-stained fingers wrapped tightly around a quill, taking notes at a fever pitch. His book-bag, she was relieved to see, lay next to his chair. No sign of anyone else nearby, or at least there wasn't when she looked. Rowan went over and took a seat in front of him, waiting patiently for him to notice her presence.  
  
"What do you want," he said finally, not looking up from his book. It was more of a growled statement than a question.  
  
Rowan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I got in the way," she said, quietly but all in a rush. "I shouldn't have… I mean… well. I'm sorry."  
  
Now he did put down the quill and look at her as though she'd done something interesting and obnoxiously confusing all at once. "Well…" he started, but he didn't seem to know what to say either. She guessed that no one apologized to him very much.  
  
"Does that happen a lot?" she asked after a few minutes of silence, long enough for him to pick up the book and start taking notes again. He dropped it immediately with a loud thud. "Sorry!" she said, and then lowered her voice to a whisper again as the librarian glared at them both. "Sorry."  
  
"Go away," he muttered from behind his book.   
  
She looked at him for a little while, not sure whether to stay just to make sure or leave. After a few moment's consideration she nodded. "I'll be in the room, then. I suppose you found your books all right…" she looked down again and, yes, it was his bookbag with his books in. "Okay."  
  
He didn't look up as she crept out of the library. He certainly didn't see her as she pelted down the hall and to the familiar hiding place, closing the door more quietly than she wanted. She didn't know what to think or do about what had just happened, except that she'd bungled it up again. There were so many prickly points to the boy, so many places she needed to step carefully around lest she hurt him somehow. It was going to take a while to get used to it all. She wondered why she was even bothering. She wondered why she couldn't get him out of her mind.  
  
It didn't matter. She pulled out her Charms book and tried to study, but she'd been up too late trying to find him the night before. Her eyes were closed before she had a chance to turn more than two pages, and she started to doze off.   
  
The creaking of the door alerted her to another presence in the room, although she could barely force her eyes open to see who it was. Not that it mattered. There was only one person it was likely to be, especially with that much black in their blurry form. He swept into the room, and he must have seen her sprawled over the couch, although he didn't say a word. After a moment she heard the familiar sounds of him settling down to study at the desk, and drifted off to sleep again.  
  
Severus Snape glanced over his shoulder at the tiny sleeping Ravenclaw on the couch as soon as he thought she was asleep again. His face was set in a ferocious scowl, for once tempered by confusion and bewilderment. He'd never encountered a first-year quite like this one, especially not a girl. Especially not a girl who he'd insulted, ridiculed, and bullied when he'd first encountered her in his private hiding place, crying like a baby. She should have run screaming for the nearest Ravenclaw prefect or just some older student she would have been friends with. Instead she'd hung around and made herself alternately unobtrusive and annoying.  
  
Especially the other day. There was something even more humiliating about being rescued by a younger Ravenclaw girl than being hung upside down by Potter. Not that much more humiliating, but close. There was also something to be said for the fact that she apologized afterwards. But that hadn't done anything for the way Potter and his cronies had ambushed him in the boy's bathroom later that week and stuffed him headfirst into a toilet.  
  
And why had she done it, anyway? What did she care what happened to him? Probably she didn't, she was just a stupid, meddling first-year anyway. She'd soon learn the way things worked in the school, and then she'd stop hanging about him like a child that had lost its mother.   
  
He frowned, leaning in closer to the parchment as he forced cramped and aching hands to write just a little bit more. It didn't matter, the girl didn't matter anyway. She was asleep on the couch and not bothering him, and he had the essay to finish. Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of his favorite subjects, if not the easiest. He already had two more inches than the essay called for, but he wasn't done yet.   
  
There was a noise on the couch behind him, so he wrote faster. If he was very lucky he could finish it and get out of the room before she really woke up. Not that he would have been in there anyway, but Potter and his lot had wandered into the library and it had been all he could do to sneak out before they saw him. They were the main reason he was in the damn room in the first place, anyway. If it had been up to him he would have avoided the Ravenclaw girl as well as the Potter gang. But given the choice between two evils, he would pick quiet and relatively studious over loud, obnoxious, and bullying.   
  
Something made a thump, but he was just about done now. He tried to gather his books quickly, but she'd sat up and made sleepy murmuring noises before he could get everything into his bag. He ignored them as best he could.  
  
"Mmr." She sounded like a cat when she was half-asleep. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
"Leaving," he replied shortly. He didn't even know why he was bothering to speak to her.   
  
"Okay…" she yawned, stretched, and curled up again on the couch. "Sorry 'bout earlier. 'Still none of my business."  
  
He placed the last of his scraps of parchment into the bag and slowly turned to stare at her. She didn't seem to be looking at him. She actually seemed asleep. "That's right," he said, not sure if she heard him. "It's not."  
  
"Still need help with …" another yawn. "Potions. If y'can. If y'don't mind."  
  
He didn't have an answer for that. He just turned and walked out. 


	6. Herbology

October 12, 1972  
  
Severus was already there when she slipped in after dinner that evening. For that matter, she didn't know if he'd actually been to dinner. She wasn't yet used to his presence or the sight of him enough to be able to pick him out from down the table and across the hall. Likely he hadn't eaten yet, from the way he was staring at a paper and a plant on the table in front of him. The plant, whatever it had been, had wilted and died. Which mean that the paper was likely something to do with Herbology. Which also likely meant that he wouldn't welcome her help, and so she tiptoed over to her couch and flopped onto it.   
  
She managed to get a whole three pages into her Transfiguration reading when the first spate of swearing drifted over from the table. A glance upward gave her a perfect view of dark, greasy hair and a hunched, black-clad back. Rowan turned back to her books, waiting for.  
  
"Damn!"   
  
She turned around, sighing, knowing that there wouldn't be any peace in the tiny room until whatever was vexing Severus was fixed. Or solved. Or whatever.   
  
"What is it?" she asked in the same annoyed tone he always treated her to when she made noise in their study room.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Don't 'nothing' me, Severus, you've been swearing at your whatever that is for an hour now. And it's annoying. Do you want help?"  
  
He turned around and gave her a glare that would have lit her robes on fire if it had been a wand blast. "I don't need your help."  
  
"Well, you obviously need someone's help because that homework assignment…"  
  
"… Herbology test."   
  
"Whatever it is, it's not getting done and it's clearly not getting done correctly. And you've killed your plant." He scowled at her, not even bothering to look around and see the damning evidence for himself. "Now do you want me to take a look at that or would you rather sit there and sulk till you fail out of Hogwarts?"  
  
"Just who was it again who helped you pass your last Potions exam?" he grumbled, but he did shove over a bit. "Oh, go on, then. You might as well see what you can do with this mess. Certainly you can't make it any worse."  
  
She bit back a smile. History of Magic and Herbology were her two best subjects, the one because it actually didn't have anything to do with spells and the other because she'd inherited her mother's green thumb. Even though the plants weren't anything she'd seen before in her life she'd already demonstrated considerable talent with them. Enough to win her several points for Ravenclaw and an O grade on every test, quiz, and paper she'd ever handed in to Professor Elm. Which Severus couldn't have been aware of, since he'd never paid attention to her work in any other class but Potions. She fought the smugness off her face as she pulled up a chair and took a look at his test.  
  
"Oh, Severus…" She sighed, but with her exasperation tempered by unanticipated fondness. "You've got… these… backwards…" she began to scratch furiously on his essay, switching two similar types of soil. "You can't put a jewelweed cutting in that, it'll …"  
  
"I think I'm well aware of what it'll do, thank you." They both had glanced at the plant in the middle of her sentence. "And what's the difference, anyway? One kind of soil's much like another."  
  
"There's a world of difference," she murmured, concentrating on his essay for the moment. "Each plant is different and you usually have to care for them in different ways, even if the differences are small ones… oh, see, there you go." She made a couple more corrections to his paper.  
  
"I don't understand," he said, and she was pleasantly surprised to hear no hint of a whine in his voice.   
  
"It's not that difficult…" she started, then cut off abruptly. "It's complicated, but if you take it slowly… and pay attention, not just in class but to the plant…"  
  
He stared at her as though she was speaking a foreign language. "Pay attention? Miss Mayfair, what on earth are you talking about?"   
  
"Here…" she grabbed his hand and practically shoved it in the flower pot. "Can't you feel how dry that is? How… well, dead?"  
  
"Of course it's dead," he retorted, more than a little unnerved by her behavior, "I killed it."  
  
"You're impossible," she said, but she smiled when she said it. "It's too dry. You've let it go too long without water, or food for that matter."  
  
"Food?" He gaped. "You have to feed a plant?"  
  
"It's a living thing, too," she informed him. She wanted to roll her eyes, but figured that if she displayed anything other than calm or patience he'd go storming off again. "It needs food, water, and a pleasant environment in which to grow like every other living thing. Sunlight is a plant's food, generally, but in this case it also could benefit from a different kind of soil. Something more like the kind found in the plant's native environment?" Now she did give him something of a scolding look, because he should have known that from either the lecture or the textbook.  
  
"The mountains in North America…" he nodded, muttering to himself. "But why…"  
  
"It didn't work because although the two types of soil are similar, they're not the same." She anticipated his question easily, figuring what he must have been asking. "Professor Elm should have given you enough…"  
  
"There were… difficult circumstances."   
  
Her eyes flickered to his face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her.   
  
"These roots are squashed, too," she went on after a second, pulling the plant out as delicately as a mother might lift a newborn. Her own mother had always taught her to treat their plants with respect. "A plant needs to breathe both above and below if it's to grow at all properly."  
  
"I know," he muttered again. "I didn't think it'd make a difference."  
  
"Of course it makes a difference. You have to care for the plant, and not just stick it in a pot with some dirt and water it every day. They want attention just as much as any of us. Trust me." She stood up, plant in hand. "Here. Meet me at the greenhouse tonight at midnight. We'll set this up for you properly, and maybe Professor Elm will overlook your first attempt as a learning experience or… something." Her voice sank to a mutter that she hadn't expected him to overhear. "Maybe he won't notice that you've switched plants."  
  
"Switched plants?" He gaped at her again. "You're going to…"  
  
"Well, of course!" she snapped. "You want to pass Herbology, don't you?"  
  
"Yes." Immediate, but also a little startled. Whatever he'd been expecting in the way of Herbology help, it hadn't been this. And then again, she hadn't been expecting to suggest such a thing either, not till the words were out of her mouth.  
  
Too late to take it back now. "Well, then." She set the plant back down. "Meet me at the greenhouse where you were having lessons, at midnight, and we'll fix you up with a proper plant." 


	7. Midnight

October 13, 1972  
  
She actually hadn't figured out yet what she was going to do, other than steal a new plant, once she got to the Greenhouse. She hadn't even figured out how she was going to get down there, and it was eleven o'clock already. Nervously, biting her nails, she crept out of bed and through the Ravenclaw common room. If she was going to do any sneaking she might as well get an early start, so as not to waste too much time pausing and looking around.  
  
There were still a couple Ravenclaws studying at the table, but they were so bent over their books she'd be surprised if they could walk straight the next day. Certainly they weren't about to look up and see her. The portrait had gone off somewhere, the first time she found herself grateful for the unnerving tendency of pictures to walk and talk back to her. Likewise there wasn't anyone on the stairs, and the portraits didn't take too much interest in a student sneaking about after hours. Which, when she thought of it as she passed the bust of Parcelus, was odd. Or maybe they were just used to students sneaking around after hours. It wasn't that late in the evening, after all.   
  
It was nervewracking business, sneaking out of the castle. She didn't trust the doors not to blast an alert, like the one she'd heard when someone had tried to sneak into the Restricted section of the library. Rowan had to find a cracked-open window and risk a high drop down into some bushes. Blinding pain made her black out for a couple of seconds, and she thought at first she must have broken her ankle. But then when she put weight on it she was able to stand, and wound up hobbling down to the greenhouses. She was almost walking normally by the time she got there.  
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
A slight yelp burst out before she could clap her hands over her mouth. She whirled around, only to nearly trip over her own ankles. One hand on the greenhouse wall to steady herself, the other out in front of her waving her wand frantically, though she couldn't think of a single spell.   
  
"Put that away, Miss Mayfair, before you poke someone's eye out." She could barely make out the Slytherin boy's scrawny form against the darkness.  
  
"You're welcome," she muttered, putting the wand away. "Not a problem. Glad to be of service. And why don't you scare the other ten years off my life while you're about it?"  
  
She thought she saw the flicker of a smile, but it was probably more of a sneer. "Let's get on with it. Show me what you've got …" He pulled out his own wand and tapped the lock. "Alohamora."   
  
That, she noted, was a handy trick to remember. She slipped in ahead of him and made her way along the rows till she found the jewelweed plants, most of them already growing quite tall and sparkling even in the dim moonlight.   
  
"It doesn't look as though there are any left over from class," Severus drawled behind her in a bored tone of voice. It sounded to her as though he was entirely indifferent to his Herbology grade, and she whirled on him.   
  
"Look, do you want to pass Herbology or not?" she snapped, tired and irritated and hoping her ankle wasn't starting to swell in her boot.  
  
He blinked at her, but didn't say anything for several minutes, which she took as acquiescence. She turned away again and began to limp down the rows, trying to find a pot that hadn't been claimed or labeled. "What are you going to do, then?" he asked, in a more subdued if not respectful tone.  
  
"Well. Your plant is pretty much dead, nothing we can do about it. But I think… if I can find some promising cuttings and graft them together… and then encourage it to grow a little… "   
  
"And how are you planning to do that?"  
  
"Have a little faith." There was a row of plants towards the back that looked like they were growing very nicely. She clambered up onto the table, perching precariously on her knees at the edge, and reached forward to grab two of them. "If I fall backwards…"  
  
"I am not …" he started to say, and then she did tip nearly backwards as she pulled the pots up and over the miniature garden. His palms pressed reflexively against her shoulders just long enough to steady her, and then she jumped down.  
  
"There…" She set the plants on the floor and rubbed her abused knees. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"  
  
"Hmmph."   
  
She pulled out a pocket knife that her parents had gotten her as a present at the beginning of term, fascinated as they all had been with the wizard's market. Very carefully, and reminding herself that magic or no magic it was just another plant, she trimmed off a sizable cutting.   
  
"Severus."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You're breathing in my ear."  
  
He stood up quickly to avoid getting poked in the eye by a spear of jewelweed. "Sorry."  
  
She pushed aside the two donating plants. "Put those back up there, would you?" There were spare pots aplenty, and the right kind of soil, but she needed something else to graft the larger section onto the smaller. There were several shelves towards the back of the greenhouse. One of them had to have what she was looking for. Rowan started to rummage around on the shelves and had just reached around to the back of one particularly dusty cubicle when she heard the rusty sounding laughter behind her.  
  
"What in the…"   
  
She turned. Severus was kneeling next to the table where she'd left him, one hand against the table leg to steady himself. He actually was laughing with what sounded like real amusement, yet there was a malicious light to his eyes. "And you didn't even know…" he chortled.   
  
"What are you blithering on about?" she hissed, grabbing the first container she could find to bean him with. Which turned out to be exactly what she was looking for, so she didn't. "Keep your voice down, would you?"   
  
For an answer he turned the pots around so that their labels were out. "James Potter…" she read aloud in a whisper, trying to remember where she'd heard the name before. "Sirius… Black. Oh. Oh!" Those mean boys who had been picking on him. Who, according to what she could catch glimpses of in the hallways, made bullying Severus their daily amusement.   
  
"They'll be so surprised…" he snickered. "They thought I'd…"   
  
She gave him an arch look. It wasn't as though she couldn't guess what they'd done, after all. The roots had been squashed by something, and if he hadn't done it out of haste and carelessness. "Well, never mind. I've got it from here…"   
  
He watched her closely as she planted the largest cutting, making as careful a job as she could of grafting the smaller cutting onto it. The magic sap-like glue worked wonders, and after a few minutes she couldn't even see the line where one plant melded into the other. "All right." She took a deep breath, pulled out her wand. "Ceresa…"   
  
Their eyes widened. The plant thickened, grew, and although she hadn't been certain what grafting the two cuttings together would do it apparently hadn't been detrimental to the outcome. It grew and grew until…  
  
"Rowan…"  
  
"Finite incantatum!" She practically yelped the countercharm, not even stopping to wonder whether or not it would actually work as rehearsed. When it did she was almost as startled as he was. "Well. There's your plant." It was a significant understatement. He now had the healthiest growth of jewelweed in his entire class. They stared at it for another several minutes. Severus recovered before she did, quickly changing the blank label on the pot for one bearing his name and replacing it amidst the fleet. Stepping over the mess she'd made on the floor, he swooped out without a backward glance.  
  
"You're welcome," she called after him, too late to actually catch him of course. Rowan tidied up after herself, making sure to eliminate any signs of clandestine tampering after hours. "Ungrateful git." 


	8. Euphamism

October 13, 1972  
  
Severus Snape couldn't keep the smirk from his face as the Slytherins and Gryffindors trooped into the greenhouse. As if it weren't enough that Mayfair had grabbed Potter's and Black's plants completely at random, it looked as though they hadn't noticed that their projects were a good foot or so shorter today. Potter was playing his stupid tricks with the Snitch, and Black was making some sort of idiotic remark. Only Lupin seemed to have registered the fact that Snape was displaying more of a grin than usual.  
  
"Settle down, class. Settle down." Professor Elm had noticed the Snitch, of course, but resigned himself to glaring until the Potter brat put it away. "Today we will examine your plants and, if there is sufficient growth, we may harvest some for the hospital wing. You all, I presume, are aware of the healing properties of the jewelweed spears?"  
  
Several hands shot up. "Yes, Miss Evans?"  
  
"The roots, when ground into a powder, are good for assorted insect stings and the leaves can made into a tisane for fever."  
  
"Excellent. Five points Gryffindor. Now, let's have a look at your plants, shall we?"  
  
Severus's grin turned positively evil as he reached for his, keeping an eye on Potter and Black. They still hadn't noticed, the fools, although Lupin was casting suspicious looks when he saw the state of Severus's very healthy, very tall plant.  
  
"Augh!" Potter's shriek reverberated throughout the greenhouse, drawing everyone's attention.  
  
"Dyah!" Black's scream nearly rivaled Potter's for volume. "Professor!"  
  
Severus choked back a laugh.  
  
"What is it, what is it..." He didn't look very happy at being interrupted by what he presumed were childish antics. "Potter. Black. I presume you two were so busy playing at Quidditch that you forgot to attend to your Herbology homework?"  
  
"I..." Potter was clearly trying to think of an excuse. "It... It wasn't like this yesterday!"  
  
Sirius had finally figured it out, and was pointing an accusing finger at Severus. "He must have switched the labels."  
  
"On both of your plants?" Professor Elm's bushy eyebrows looked as though they were attempting to crawl into his receding hairline. "And did he then magically turn his ... very healthy plant, I note, five points to Slytherin... into two neglected ones?"  
  
He knew he couldn't manage an innocent expression, not with the grin fighting its way onto his face, so he settled for a generic sense of smugness. "Thank you, sir."  
  
There wasn't anything they could say in front of the Professor, of course, but Potter did manage to stick his foot out directly in Severus's path at the end of the lesson. He'd been half expecting it, and managed to avoid falling in a heap on the ground. "I know you did... something... Snivellus," he snarled quietly. "You couldn't grow mold on your robes if you had a growth charm and a week's head start."  
  
"You need your eyes checked again, Potter?" he retorted. He knew he shouldn't; he knew he was just getting himself in for a bigger beating, but he couldn't resist. "I thought I was the one with the big, strong plant and you two were the ones with the limp excuses for salad greens."  
  
"If you're all done comparing..." Professor Elm's voice sounded behind them, making them all jump. "... notes. Potter, Black, don't you have someplace to be? Severus, a word..."  
  
The two Gryffindors gave him loathsome looks, clearly under the impression that he was being asked to remain behind for some kind of extra-credit work, something to ingratiate himself with the teacher. Severus, on the other hand, was suddenly struck with the fear that his midnight foray had been discovered. Professor Elm gave no indication as he slung a companionable arm around Severus's shoulders, prisoning him, leading him back to the greenhouse. Once there he shut the door and turned to the student, who was wondering just how bad things were going to get.  
  
"That's quite a healthy growth of jewelweed you have there, Severus," he said after a few interminable minutes.  
  
"Thank you, sir..." He wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't get him in trouble. He settled for the least that was politely possible, using survival instincts learned long ago.  
  
"It isn't yours, is it, Severus?" The professor's voice was gentle but firm. "It's certainly not Potter's or Blacks, they don't need any help to muck up their assignments, as much time as they spend playing about, but it's not yours either."  
  
"Sir..." His mind raced. Was there anything he could say that would get him out of this mess? Technically it was... sort of. It ... "It's not ..." Inspiration struck. "I had help, sir. I found a tutor."  
  
Professor Elm's eyebrows shot up into his hair again. "A tutor? And who might this paragon of toleration be?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Who is he?" the Professor clarified, although it had been less the long words that had confused Severus and more the cause of the phrase. "Your tutor."  
  
"Er. She..." he realized at the last minute how that must have sounded. "Sir. She's a Ravenclaw. Miss Mayfair." He hoped, although he knew better, that Professor Elm would conveniently forget that she was a first year.  
  
"Rowan Mayfair is your new Herbology tutor?" The Professor didn't believe him, clearly. "Severus, I'm disappointed in you. I can understand why you wouldn't want to lose face in front of Gryffindor, but lying to me..."  
  
"I'm not lying!" he shouted, but it was less angry and more desperate. "I'm not... Professor, you can ask her! She needed help on her Potions work, she's absolutely dismal at it... and so I traded her, Potions for Herbology. She came down to the greenhouse and helped me fix what was wrong... she's really good with plants. Really good. Green thumb, and all that." Although he'd never understood the reasoning behind that particular stupid phrase.  
  
"Is she, now. I'll have to speak with her about that." The Professor fixed Severus with a stern eye. "And about your supposed Herbology tutorial. It'd be a good thing for you, really. For you both, I suppose, if what you say about her Potions abilities are true. If not..."  
  
Severus winced. It would probably be a detention for him, at the least, if Professor Elm now found out that Severus had been lying. Which he might, if Mayfair lied about him to cover her own tracks. "Yes, sir. It is, sir."  
  
"All right. Go on, get to your next lesson. Tell them I delayed you, if you wish."  
  
Severus ran, grateful for the reprieve, wondering what the Ravenclaw girl would say. 


End file.
